


Empire Will Set You Free

by ExtempoEtLoco



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: No cheese, bad people being unapologetically bad, dark side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtempoEtLoco/pseuds/ExtempoEtLoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only the powerful are free. Sirjah, a promising young Sith Warrior will have no master. To free herself, she must dominate those who would seek to keep her down. But the journey to power need not be a lonely one. Even a bad person can earn others' love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of my Sith Warrior, Sirjah, and her journey to power. She is a Dark Sith and unapologetically so. But no one is the villain of their own story, there is more to the Dark Side than mindless brutality. 
> 
> This story is more about character development, after all, all you need to experience the action and lightsaber battles is to create a character. This story tries to fill in the gaps and explore how a very bad person can still earn the love and loyalty of others. People are complex, after all, and if you can understand a person, truly and completely as they understand themselves, you cannot do otherwise but love them, as they love themselves.
> 
> You can find me on Red Eclipse, if you fancy friending me and maybe a bit of role play.
> 
> \- ON INDEFINITE HIATUS -

Korriban

"Remember your duty," those were her father's parting words as their ship docked with the Imperial Fleet station. 

"Yes, Father," were Sirjah's last words back. She was 8 years old. 

She took her carry-on bag from the ship's droid and strapped her training blade to her back then walked out of the dock with no compulsion to look back. The transport to the Sith training grounds on Ziost would be leaving in a couple of hours and she had yet to locate the proper hangar. A droid waited for her past the security checkpoints, it had not expected such a young trainee and said so in its sickeningly polite etiquette-droid manner. She had a measly amount of credits, generous by her father's standards, to buy herself a meal. 

"Probably the last free meal you will have in your life," her father had said, transferring the money over, "you will have to earn any luxuries you desire, or take them from those who have and were too weak or foolish to hang on to them." 

She had almost asked whether she had earned his affection or if he was a fool who could not hang on to his credits, but she had chosen the path of wisdom and kept her mouth shut. 

"Droid, I wish to eat," she said. 

"Overseer Tremel left no instructions regarding escorting you anywhere but to the ship to Ziost," it said, flustered.

"Then you can have no objections to doing as I say," she replied and started walking in the most likely direction. After a second's hesitation and an 'oh dear...', the droid started to follow. 

Walking down the grey, sterile corridors of the space station, she wondered at all the pale pink to brownish faces. She was not accustomed to being surrounded by so many humans at once. There were humans back on her homeworld of Iridonia, but not many. Her parents, staunch Empire supporters were not welcome among their neighbours and as soon as Sirjah's force-sensitivity had become apparent to them, they had kept her at home, intending her of the Sith and the Empire. They had kept her hidden from the Jedi. 

The humans moved in orderly fashion towards their transports and offices. Their faces melted into one another in her mind, plain and unadorned. They all looked alike to her. In their grey uniforms, they could have been clones for all the difference it would make to her. 

They parted as she passed and she could feel their disdain for her. She was an alien to them, even though the Zabrak were considered among the highest of the Near-Human species. They feared her fierce yellow gaze, her red skin and the black tattoos that covered her face. And the horns that had recently started to grow through the soft skin of her skull. Evolution had reduced the importance of Zabrak horns to almost ornamental status but they were still sharp and stark white against her black hair. They feared her for her alienness and some were keen enough of mind to understand at a glance of her garments that she was a Sith Acolyte and someday, she would have power over them all. 

She smirked, soaking in all the conflict her mere appearance caused among these fools, the tattoos around her mouth, as new as her horns, contorted into a wide and vicious line that seemed to split her face in two vertically. Someone nearby shuddered mentally, and Sirjah loved it. She would learn to use that to her advantage however long she had to stay on Ziost and put it to good use when she was finally summoned to Korriban. 

# 

There was one other near-human on board the transport down to the surface of Korriban. He was a Rattataki of massive proportions. He towered over the other acolytes, his dark glare and fury oppressive to the rest of them. He was smothering them with the sheer power of his presence through the Force. She could not help but admire him for it. Had he not been of a slave species, she might have tried to make an ally of him. They would have made quite a striking pair to behold, he a chalky blue-white mountain with unforgiving and unreadable features and her, small and wiry, all red and black spit and fire... She toyed with the idea of challenging him, to test which of them was the most powerful, then decided against it. Perhaps once on the ground, and only once she had ascertained there would be no witnesses and it would be good to have the Rattataki slave around to deflect the other's attention from the only other alien among them. 

# 

She seethed with anger for her own weakness as she spun, jumped, cartwheeled around the room. Her training blade easily deflected every painful stun bolt from the hovering droids. The bolts of light burst into sparks against the charred walls of the training room. Faster and faster she countered each shot, until she was almost a blur zipping around the room. 

If anyone found out she had let the old man escape with his life... 

Three years she had been on Korriban. She had fought ever step of the way to stay, to be noticed and to advance. And to keep her life, which that beast Vemrin kept trying to take. She had earned or taken everything she wanted, not without failures of course, but none so grave as disobeying an order, or showing compassion to her master's enemy. 

Early in her days at the Academy, she had been told repeatedly how she had been brought there early. She had known she was as much Tremel's pawn as she was now Darth Baras' but his obvious and unexpected affection for her, more than he showed his blood daughter, that had been his true betrayal of her. She had told herself this again and again as she headed to his office to carry out her deadly task. He had made her vulnerable and then had made her soft. She remembered that group of Acolytes who had hoped to ally themselves with her against Vemrin. They had seen her potential when so many masters did not. It had felt good and so she had not let them go to their deaths, she had, instead, shown them that they were inadequate to the task, she had let them live to someday whisper to some master or other that she, Sirjah, was soft. That Sirjah had been raised on a Republic planet and she was squishy, squeaky and soft like a roowantly doe... 

Her stomach knotted and she felt a new surge of self-loathing. She let it course through her, fill her up. She roared and sent the three droids flying uncontrolled against the wall. They bounced and protested loudly. 

She heard the doors unlock and slide open. She glared and turned to look for the intruder. 

"I have this room booked for another hour, leave!" 

Her mouth snapped shut when she saw that it was her master who had strolled in. Darth Baras' huge, armored frame blocked the exit. Sirjah had never seen him outside of his office before and was momentarily at a loss. 

"I apologize Master," she said eventually, breathing hard from her exertion, "I did not realize you wanted me." 

"Nevermind," his voice was clear behind the metallic mask that covered his head, "watching you train has been most informative. I could feel your hatred all the way across the building. Impressive. Tell me, who is it directed towards? Me? Yourself, perhaps?" 

Sirjah remained silent, her fury directed at him now. He had ordered her to kill her previous master, to destabilize her, to test her resolve. He had put her in that position, told her that the man she must murder thought of her as a daughter. And she had failed his test, Baras had thought her weak and she had proven him right even though he did not know it, must never find out. 

"Good," he whispered almost sensually, "Yes, good, my acolyte, I can feel the anger within you. You hate me and you fear me... You wish to strike me down, why don't you?" 

She spat out the words, "I am no fool master. You would strike me down before I could so much as think about lifting my blade against you." 

He laughed cruelly, "You are correct. I am satisfied that you know your place. Leave your training blade and arm yourself for combat. I believe you are ready for a special errand. Offworld." 

"Good," she squared her shoulders, "I believe I have outgrown this planet." 

"Make yourself presentable then come to my office, there is one more thing I want you to do before I give you your assignment. It will be your final test, succeed and you will be a true Sith and my apprentice. Fail, and you will be dead," He turned in one graceful, fluid motion, his cape swishing behind him. 

A single, convulsive shudder of disgust, fear and the sudden release of tension ran down her back. 

She grimaced, _just a little longer, she told herself, just a little longer and I will be free of him and his errands. Soon I will be powerful enough to need no master and Darth Baras will fear me and I shall be free._

# 

"I think I'd rather be back in my cell," the yellow skinned Twi'lek slave said, checking the twin blasters on her hips again. "I was starting to get used to the random meal times and getting shocked for breathing out of order..." 

"That can be arranged," Sirjah said absently, stretching her mind as far as she could into the old tomb. 

"What are you doing?" The fidgety slave asked after a long silent pause, "Having second thoughts about the whole thing? Because I would totally still respect and fear you if you decided to turn around and take up farming..." 

"I've located the areas where we will encounter the most hostility," the Sith dusted her hands and stood, checking the battery on her blade, "Lead the way, then, slave." 

"Vette," the other jumped over the boulder they had been crouching behind, "The name is Vette... And I am armed, you know. I don't have to come with you into that death trap. I could just shoot you." 

In spite of her words, she was following Sirjah down the path. 

"You could always try," the Zabrak said, "But I doubt you could get even a whole volley of blaster bolts to touch me." 

"You're that good, huh?" 

"You have no idea," Sirjah allowed herself a smile, "But you will soon. Just make sure you keep them off me as much as you can. Tempting fate is stupid. Stupid kills." 

"Wow... Nice philosophy there, really deep stuff," Vette's voice betrayed her nervousness, "I can get behind that." 

"Okay," Sirjah readied herself as her mind touched a hostile presence, she felt the adrenaline start to flow through her veins and the world took on new dimensions as she became one with the Force. She let herself feel the savageness of the land, the darkness that permeated the very rock of the tomb. She charged, blade held high, buzzing with energy. 

"Brutal... I better check I still have all my parts," Vette collapsed on the rock and wiped the sweat off her forehead, "I really thought we were done for there, for a minute." 

"What? After what it took to get down here, you really thought Vemrin the Vermin would be what got me?" Sirjah was elated, her rival lay dead at her feet, his partially cauterized entrails spilling out the gash in his abdomen. She kicked the corpse a couple of time, for the fun of it. It squelched wetly. 

"Urgh," Vette said, "Can you not do that? I'm going to lose my lunch." 

"I'm basking in my victory," Sirjah laughed, loudly, throwing her head back, letting the echo ripple through her, "Ahhh! Finally, I am free of this insufferably plague!" 

"Ooookay... Bask away..." Vette looked as if she feared for Sirjah's sanity right then, "But... No more kicking of squelchy corpses? Pretty please?" 

"Fine!" Sirjah was in an expansive mood, "It will be a reward for your fine blaster work today." 

"You are ever so gracious, Master," Vette said dubiously. 

"There! Finally you take the proper tone towards your superior!" Sirjah proceeded to take Vemrin's blade and personal effects. A champion deserved a trophy after all, "Now, was that so very hard?" 

"Don't get used to it," Vette stood up and dusted herself, "My respect is earned and a shock collar is not going to do it. By the way..." 

"No." 

"You didn't even let me ask..." 

"Still, no." 

"Fine."


	2. Dromund Kaas

Dromund kaas "Dromund Kaas, where freedom comes to die," the Twi'lek said, too loudly for Sirjah's comfort. 

"Hush, slave," she said off-handedly, "you know what happens to mouthy slaves..." 

"The name is Vette," the Twi'lek mumbled but Sirjah noticed that she had lowered her voice enough that she could be confident no one but her master had heard her. 

Sirjah preferred not to zap the yellow-skinned Twi'lek, in public at least. It was tacky and it implied that she, a Sith, could not keep her servants under control without crude methods. Which would not be untrue, if she were being honest. She had meditated much on the subject of Vette during the trip from the Imperial fleet station. It had been a long and boring journey, excepting the "minor incident" along the way, that is. But once the body of the General had been disposed of and her quarters adequately cleared of the debris and damage sustained during the battle, she had had the rest of the voyage to try and figure out the ways that Baras could use Vette to either teach her a lesson or keep her under his control. Certainly he had not given her a slave out of the goodness of his heart. 

Did he want the slave broken or tamed? The interrogators and wardens of the Academy's prison had failed to do either. A feat Sirjah rather respected, though it would not do to tell her servant this. For that matter did he want Sirjah broken or tamed? There was much to consider there... She already knew she needed to watch her back. Now, she needed to watch for danger of a different kind, one that did not face her, lightsaber in hand. 

"Hey, Lord Sith Master person," Vette actually tugged on the back of her coat to get her attention then ignored the frown on Sirjah's face, "listen, if we're gonna hang out, do you think maybe I could have a couple of new outfits? This isn't going to cut it much longer..." She gestured to the clothes she had worn since Korriban, much patched and suffering from the abuse of sand, sun and blaster-fire. 

"You can have my cast-offs," Sirjah said, annoyed with herself for not noticing before the state her servant was in. It did not reflect well on her as a new Sith Warrior. 

"No offense, boss, but... You're kinda teensy, size-wise I mean, and I look better in leatheris anyway," Vette was gesturing not very subtly at the storefront they had paused before. It sported a variety of outfits from the light street-casual to the more reinforced, jungle-ready gear. 

"I'm not that much shorter than you," Sirjah said, though she did not know why she should feel offended. What did the slave girl's opinion matter to her? 

"I mean, you have a very narrow frame and er," Sirjah could feel Vette's sudden realization that she was treading dangerous ground, "thin, built for speed and those freakishly fast movements of yours. I'm a bit wider, especially around the chest area... Erm... Please don't kill me?" 

"If you're implying I look like a child," She said softly, "I'll remind you that I am a fully grown and mature Zabrak with a lightsaber and a bad temper." 

"Whoa, I said no such thing... Er, My Lord,...but if you want me to watch your back," Sirjah had a slight shiver of foresight at the words, "I'm going to need the gear. You don't want to die, I don't want to die...the way I see it, we have a mutual interest and that's grounds for negotiating." 

"I own you," Sirjah said but without the bite she had intended to give the words, "I don't need to negotiate with you." 

"What? Are you going to zap me into fighting your enemies for you?" Vette dared a cheeky smile and Sirjah was torn between laughing and force-choking her, "you're just arguing for argument's sake, now." 

"You really like to play with your life, don't you? But no, I suppose I am," she said, feeling suddenly powerless and resenting Baras for it. Vette, however, visibly relaxed. In spite of her levity, the Twi'lekk had expected to be zapped, Sirjah saw and did not know what to make of that. She really ought to dispose of Vette already and not have to deal with all these questions and complications she thought, not for the first time. But maybe if she did that Baras would have won again? 

"Nope," Vette skipped up the step to the shop door, going back to her disrespectful chirpiness now that she sensed she was no longer in imminent danger, "So you might as well take the collar off..." 

"Don't push your luck." 

"Harrumph," Vette sighed, "Then can I at least have an outfit that's not in imperial grey?" 

# 

"I cannot break him!" Lord Baras howled. Out of the corner of her eye, Sirjah saw Vette blanch and back up against the wall. Sirjah herself had only just managed to stop herself doing the same at her master' s anger and frustration. Part of her was enjoying seeing the Sith Lord fail to break one small Republic man.


End file.
